


a vivid imagination

by marsnmango



Category: Spider-Man (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Harry, Sexual Fantasy, pre-identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsnmango/pseuds/marsnmango
Summary: Harry has been having some less than innocent thoughts about his best friend for a while now. Far be it from a teenage boy to act on them.





	a vivid imagination

He wasn’t sure when his thoughts about Peter started treading dangerous territory.

 

Wrong didn’t even begin to describe it. Peter was… Peter. He was the sweetest, most genuine guy he’d ever met, and it was doubtful that he’d ever meet someone who cared about him even half as much. That was his boy. That was his _best friend_.

 

So his descent into madness was markedly finalized when he caught himself lying awake in the dead of night, rutting quietly into the thought of having Peter face-down in his mattress.

 

It had started off as something innocent; a curiosity, a lingering question. They were teenagers, and they were both boys- (herein lies the brilliant deduction of an Osborn) and it was natural that his mind would… wander.

 

Maybe it was _because_ they were best friends. Or maybe it was because Peter was the only guy he’d ever known to see him as more than an Osborn.

 

Whatever it was, it was turning these late nights trysts with himself into a real pain in the ass.

 

And tonight, like many nights, he found his hands wandering into his jeans.

 

It took a moment to get properly situated; his clothes kicked off with the exception of his pants, that were hanging low around his hips at that point, the curtains drawn and the door locked. It was only then that he allowed himself to get truly comfortable, to lay on his back and just feel the sensation of the sheets against his bare skin.

 

Then, he unzipped his pants and watched in mild fascination as his dick protruded clumsily through the fabric of his boxers. He’d barely even started, and he was already dripping with an obscene amount of precum. But in all fairness, he’d been holding it in long before he’d started his nightly ritual.

 

It was Peter’s fault. His fault for showing up late, for wearing jeans that fit a little too well. And then ordering a coco-vanilla smoothie like it was at all fair that Harry had to suffer through an hour of him licking thick, white cream off the corner of his lips.

 

He shut his eyes, thinking back to that moment at the cafe. At the disgustingly innocent look in his eyes when he’d turned to Harry and said, “Is something wrong? You seem a little distracted.”

 

And like a fool, Harry had replied with a dumbfounded, “Huh? Oh. Nothing, just… Uh, let me grab us some napkins.”

 

“Okay, thanks man!”

 

‘Thanks’. No, Parker. Thank _you_ , for ruining a poor little rich boy’s perceived sexuality.

 

His hands, already lathered in a fine lotion, wrapped around the base of his dick and treated it with long, drawn-out strokes. It perked up at the attention it was getting, to the point that the boxers were no longer necessary and were accordingly pushed below his hips. He wondered what Peter would think; if Peter would stop and stare or look away, embarrassed.

 

Unconsciously, his hands began to work faster. Gently but firmly stroking his dick until it was rock-hard and standing straight at attention. He wondered what it would be like-- if Peter was there to see this.

 

Knowing Peter, his entire face would turn a bright, almost comical shade of red. He’d stutter like a virgin and look away because it probably never crossed his mind, not even _once_ to give into such a carnal instinct. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

 

[But Harry was. God, Harry was.]

 

Peter would try to look away, but if Harry had his way, (and seeing as it was _his_ fantasy, it was only fair that he should) his curiosity would get the better of him. He’d catch Peter peeking from the corner of his eye and trying, but failing miserably to not be _interested_.

 

Harry would use that opportunity to awaken something; not just in himself, but in Peter, too. He’d grab Peter’s hand as he shied away and guide it to his cock. But he knew better than to scare him.

 

“It’s alright.” he would say, “It’s just me. You can touch me.”

 

“Touch you? But, Harry…” and Peter would try to pretend that he didn’t want to, even though he was already bulging through his jeans. That part of him would at least be honest.

 

“It’s okay.” Then, when the moment was right, he would wrap his hands around Peter’s and show him the proper way to do it. Just the way he liked it, so that Peter would know.

 

“Yeah...Like that...Good boy--” his hands moved faster, his jerks coercing a certain type of pleasure to pool into his stomach like a crucible of lust. But he wasn’t done yet.

 

Slower. Softer. Clumsier. Like Peter.

 

And upon hesitation, Harry would lean in and assure him, “You’re doing great. Fuck, Peter…”

 

Fuck Peter? Now there was an idea. Peter Parker, his lithe body clinging to Harry’s as he whimpers and his eyes roll back. His legs hooked around Harry’s hips, determined to keep him in and--

 

A shrill-sounding ring shook him out of his stupor. The pleasure seeped from his face as he leaned in towards his phone and scowled-- up until he saw the notification.

 

Incoming call from: Peter Parker

 

Speak of the goddamn pheromone dripping devil.

 

He looked down at himself, practically naked with his hands around his dick, and then back at the phone where Peter was undoubtedly sitting at home somewhere without a sinful care in the world. A brief debate was had between the part of him that still maintained some semblance of logic and the part of him that wanted to split Peter open with his cock.

 

He answered the phone.

 

“Hey Harry! You busy?”

 

“Nah…” he lied, “What’s up, Pete?”

 

“I just had a… ha, quick question.”

 

If didn’t know any better, he might think that Peter had just gasped. And that was enough to make his imagination run wild. “Yeah? Shoot.”

 

“Hah.. You know how-- urgh, you know how you said- you knew a good place that-! That would buy your spare parts?”

 

“Oh.” Somehow, the prospect of a seemingly innocent conversation took a backseat to the noises that Peter was making. Coupled with the wind, it seemed like he was busy. And yet it was somehow no less enthralling. “You mean the 5th avenue branch. Yeah, I sell--” he gasped, making the mistake of letting his fingers linger on the tip a bit too long. “The stuff that… just didn’t work with my experiments.”

 

“Do you have the--ah, address?”

 

“S-Sure…” There it was again. It wasn’t his imagination, he _was_ gasping. And while it was doubtful that he was on the other side of the phone, God forbid pleasuring himself alongside Harry, it was still a gratifying thought.

 

“Harry, are you alright?”   
  
“Oh fuck yes.”

 

“Uh...What?”

 

His eyes snapped open and he straightened up. “Oh-- Uh, I meant fuck, yes. Sorry. I was just-- just rewatching some of the old screwball videos! Y’know, the ones where she pranks Spiderman.”

 

“Those weren’t _funny_.” said Peter, through what was arguably the cutest pout he’d ever heard. Never-mind his tedious habit of defending the biggest menace in the city.

 

“Sure they were.” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. He knew it was wrong, but something about it brought Harry an odd sense of satisfaction. Peter having no choice but to watch as the hero he so wrongly admired was plastered all over the city as a fool, even if it was short lived. He was headstrong in such a way that hoping for anything but Peter’s blind faith was a long shot, and yet he had hoped that every screwball video would come just a tad closer to opening Peter’s mind to the vigilante’s true nature. “The entire city thought so.”

 

“It wasn’t the _entire_ city! Geez… The address, Harry?”

 

Ah, right. That. “2120. First block on 5th avenue. Can’t miss--”

 

“Thanks!” Peter hung up, and before Harry knew it, he was left alone to an untamed, ugly instinct.

 

Not only to unmask Spiderman, but to show him that Peter Parker was not going to be one of his victims. He wasn’t going to let what happened to him happen to Peter. Not as long as he was around.

 

Still, he had to wonder what Peter even _saw_ in the spider-freak. Sure, he was strong, fast, had superpowers-- whatever. But he was a criminal, and he had no business having Peter’s well-intentioned faith. Not when Peter was better off lending his attention to someone who actually _cared_ about him. And, okay; maybe his definition of ‘caring’ was a bit… diluted, by the fact that he’d just spent five minutes on the phone with Peter, masturbating to the sound of his voice. But it didn’t change the fact that he would do _anything_ for Peter.

 

Even if it meant taking down an alleged superhero.

 

He couldn’t help but wonder how Peter would thank him, awakened to the truth. Sure, he’d be upset about it. Maybe cry a little. But he’d have a shoulder to cry on and a bed to lay in whenever he needed it.

 

Speaking of. His cock was straining to a degree that was quickly becoming painful, and his patience was wearing thin.

 

It would take some coercing, but Peter would eventually become tentatively comfortable, exploring his cock with his own two hands and looking for Harry’s approval from time to time. He’d find it in the form of a moan, or a gasp. And then the real fun would begin.

 

He’d ask Peter to go down on him. Maybe he would, or maybe he wouldn’t, but the thought of Peter’s soft lips wrapped around his cock, coupled with one last stroke, caused him to blow his load all over the sheets. And in one last hurrah before he consigned himself to the shame and satisfaction of his afterglow, he imagined Peter’s face, surprised as Harry’s seed dribbled down his cheek and past his lips.

 

He laid back, idly wondering how things had gotten to this point. And why a part of him entertained a naive longing that Peter would one day be _his_ to ruin.

  


**Author's Note:**

> why am i like this


End file.
